


Ladyworld (2018 Rewrite Edition)

by somethingsintheair



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Multi, Tags to be added, WIP, i don't know where this is going still, i'm just starting over, just have fun with it, ladyworld
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: Did I mention there were ladies?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a fic I started when Ladyworld originally came out. I was gonna continue it but realized my style has changed a lot, so I'm just rewriting the chapters I had so far before I continue. Character names have changed and probably some other stuff, so I'm sorry if you read the original recently and get super confused?? Either way, enjoy!

_“...thanks for tuning in, it’s another beautiful day here in Ladyworld.”_

Doctor Sung smiled as he turned up his radio. They were in range. Almost there.

_“That’s right, you’ll never see any rain here, unless you wanted to. All you newcomers, remember-- everything is free, just don’t forget to tip.”_

“Hey, when are we gonna replace this guy, anyway?” Meouch asked as he turned the volume back down. “He gives me the creeps.”

“That’s not very nice, Commander,” Sung replied, turning the volume up just a bit more. A happy medium. “What do you have against JP? He’s a nice guy.”

“His voice is just... I dunno.” Meouch shuddered. “Makes me feel like he’s trying to… _seduce_ me or somethin’.”

“Well, then he’s doing his _job,”_ Sung said. “We’re not replacing him, he’s perfect. Now stop complaining, you’re going to upset our passenger.”

“He does sound like he’s overdoing it a little,” a voice piped up from the backseat.

Meouch whipped his head around to look behind him. He’d almost forgotten she was there. Her name was Carol, she’d told them. A human woman, short but muscular in a way that Meouch wasn’t quite used to seeing. He wasn’t complaining, of course-- she was gorgeous, as all women of Earth were, and he even found himself getting a bit lost in her eyes.

A little shove from Sung brought him back to reality, and it was only then he realized that the conversation had continued on without him. He gave his head a shake and faced forward again.

“So, who runs this place again?” Carol asked.

Sung perked up at the question. “Oh, well, my wife and I--” Meouch nudged his arm. “My, uh… my lady friend--” Another nudge. _“Fine,_ my _ex-wife,_ she started this whole thing. It was her idea. But she needed some help, so she asked the band to come along. Of course, this is only half of us, but the other two aren’t really, ah…” He glanced towards Meouch. “How would you… describe those two, Commander?”

“They’re not too good with people,” Meouch explained. “That’s why it’s usually just us two out on these missions. We’re more charismatic.”

Carol raised an eyebrow. “...Right.”

Before Meouch could question just what was with that sarcastic tone, Sung was grinning and pointing up ahead. “Look, we’re here!”

The landing was smooth, and Meouch was the first to get up and escort Carol out of the ship. Sung followed close behind, just to see the look on her face… and it was well worth it. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in shock. The place was beautiful. A warm, sunny island, filled with all different types of plant life. The dock they stood on had a chrome finish, with added padding on the surface to keep walkers from slipping. In the distance, she could see a cluster of tall glass buildings. Everything was so… _shiny,_ it was unbelievable.

“Welcome to Ladyworld!” Sung greeted with a sweeping motion of his arms.

“It’s beautiful,” Carol said. “Holy shit, guys.”

She was so busy gaping at the landscape that she didn’t notice the tall robot approaching. Sung, on the other hand, did an excited little jump at the sight.

“Ah, Cynthia!” he exclaimed. “So good to see you again. How are you?”

Carol blinked at up at the robot. It had a distinctly feminine build, all smooth curves and plump lips and five-inch heels. More than a little intimidating, to say the least.

“I am just fine, Doctor,” the robot replied before she turned to face Carol. “Welcome to Ladyworld. Please allow me to direct you to your room.” She extended a hand that Carol almost took, until she saw the wrist flick out an awkward angle. A moment later, the robot’s head twitched a few times and she collapsed to the ground.

“Ah fuck, not again.” Sung let out a sigh as he crouched down beside the robot, then gave her a little tap on the shoulder. “Cynthia? Sweetie?”

Meouch scoffed. “Even if she could hear you, Doc, you know she wouldn’t answer to that.”

“Well… I suppose you’re not wrong,” Sung replied. “But this is, like, her third breakdown this week. Something’s not right.” He reached down under her knees and lifted her up off the dock. “I’ll have to look into this. Commander, would you make sure Carol makes it to her room?”

“Sure thing,” Meouch replied, sliding an arm around Carol’s shoulders. “Sorry about the inconvenience, doll. We’ll make sure you’re havin’ fun in no time.”

Carol scoffed and wiggled her way out of his hold. “Lead the way, furball.”

* * *

“WHAT IS IT THIS TIME, DOCTOR?”

Sung looked up from the robot in his arms to see Havve standing before him, arms crossed.

“Oh, uh, she broke down again,” he answered as he stepped past the drummer. “Right in front of a visitor, too.” Carefully, he set Cynthia down on his workbench. “What are you doing in here, anyway?”

Havve held up a bottle of machine lubricant. “MY JOINTS WERE GETTING STIFF AGAIN. I COULDN’T FIND YOU, SO I TOOK ACTION WITHOUT YOU.”

“Understandable,” Sung said with a nod, hands hovering over Cynthia’s chestplate. “Ah… could you do me a favor and send Phobos over here if you see him?” he asked. “I don’t need her thinking I’m getting up to any… shenanigans.”

Havve nodded before he went out, leaving Sung to stare down at his broken down ex-wife. Not a hint of rust or decay. She was just as beautiful as the day he’d made her. It was astounding, really. Just as he was about to pop off her chestplate, he heard the door open, and he jumped away from the table.

“Ah! Lord Phobos, thank you for--” He blinked at the sight of a woman who was in fact _not_ Phobos. “Carol? What are you doing here?”

Carol shrugged. “I ditched the furry. This seemed more interesting.”

Sung raised his eyebrows. “Well… alright,” he said, “I suppose you can stick around. I’m just waiting on--” He smiled as Phobos entered the room, guitar in tow. “Oh, there you are! Carol, this is Lord Phobos. Phobos, this is Carol. She just landed here with us.”

Phobos looked Carol up and down, and gave her a stiff little nod before he turned back to Sung. He strummed a questioning chord on his guitar.

“Oh, Cynthia is down again,” Sung explained as he led Phobos towards the worktable. “I would’ve just asked Havve for help, but this seems like it’s going to be a more complicated issue than usual. It’s an ongoing problem, we need to find the root of it.”

Phobos swung his guitar around to lie against his back before he reached down with careful hands to pop off her chestplate. Right to work.

“We should look at that same wire first, it’s probably loose again,” Sung mumbled as he moved to stand on the other side of the worktable. He watched as Phobos flipped Cynthia’s power switch off, and began to search around for the wire in question.

“So... why don’t you just do this yourself?” Carol asked Sung after a moment. He’d almost forgotten she was there, just standing in the middle of the room. “Does it really take two guys to find a faulty wire?”

“Uh.” Sung paused. “Sometimes. Like I said before, it’s a complicated issue.”

Phobos stopped his movements to look up at Sung. It was hard to tell behind his mask, but Sung knew it was a look of disappointment.

_“Fine._ I don’t think she entirely trusts me with this, so I have to get someone else to help,” Sung told Carol, then turned back to Phobos. “Happy?”

Phobos nodded and turned to his work. Carol just looked confused, but decided she could bother him about it later.

By the time Phobos powered Cynthia on again, Carol knew all about how she worked, because Sung wouldn't stop babbling about it the entire time. He didn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, just rambling on as he watched Phobos work.

Cynthia’s visor flashed a couple times before it glowed its usual red, and she turned her head to face Sung.

“Good morning, _love sensei,”_ she spoke in a low voice. “What would you like to do today?”

There was a pause before Sung's eyes widened and his face went beet red. “Turn her off,” he told Phobos.

Phobos gave Sung a questioning look as Cynthia began to lean in towards him. 

_“Turn her off.”_

Before she could get any closer, Phobos flicked the power switch, and caught her when she fell back onto the table. 

_“What the fuck was that?"_ Carol asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Nothing.” Sung cleared his throat. “It was nothing. Phobos, please check her settings. I'm going to go... lie down for a bit, I think.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Earth woman’s abandonment was a bit of a hit to Meouch’s ego, but he was sure he could find some better luck elsewhere. That place was absolutely _crawling_ with women, after all. At least one of them had to be into him, right?

He decided to head towards the beach. It wasn’t too crowded, it never really was. Somehow, there was always a happy medium, where there was plenty of open space but it was still well populated. Several small groups of women were scattered around, mostly human with a few other species sprinkled in.

Meouch was most familiar with humans, so he figured that would be his best bet. He dug his shades out of his pocket before he strode over towards a woman in a lounge chair, and sat right down in the empty seat next to her. After he was very politely asked to go fuck himself, he muttered an apology and sulked away. That was fine, he was fine. Plenty of other ladies in Ladyworld, right?

Once he’d given himself a moment to recover from that particular blow to his ego, he approached a slightly more friendly-looking woman who was sitting on a big blanket. She was in a cherry-red one piece, her brown hair tied up into a bun. Most of her attention was focused on a magazine.

“Hey there,” he greeted, offering the woman a smile. “Mind if I sit?”

She looked up at him for a moment, sizing him up before she shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Meouch grinned and settled down on the blanket, sitting a reasonable distance away from the woman. Slowly but surely, he was learning about boundaries.

“You’re the guy who’s been bringing new people here, right?” she asked, looking back to her magazine. “I’m Remy.”

Meouch’s ears perked up. Most of the women around there didn’t recognize him. “Oh, uh, yeah, that was me. Meouch is the name.” He paused before he leaned in towards her. “Might wanna keep that in mind, ‘cause--”

She put a hand up. “Don’t even try, man.”

Meouch sat up straight again. What was _up_ with these people? “C’mon,” he said, “Don’t you ever get tired of being surrounded by just… _other women?_ Don’t you ever get _bored?"_

She spared him a glance. “Not particularly, no.”

“Not at _all?”_

Remy let out a long, exasperated sigh and dropped her magazine. She grabbed Meouch’s arm and pulled him in towards her before she pointed out towards the shore. “See that beauty in the sundress?” she asked. “Short blue hair, smile that shines like the sun?”

Meouch was a bit taken aback by the sudden contact, but managed to pick out the woman walking barefoot through the shallow water. “Uh… yeah. I see her.”

“She’s my wife.”

Meouch blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“I love her. We love each other.”

She could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he processed her statement.

“We’re gay,” Remy added, in case that wasn’t clear.

After what was most likely an inappropriate amount of time, Meouch finally spoke.

_“...Oh.”_

“Yeah, dumbass,” she replied, releasing his arm from her hold. “So if you’re looking to get some, I’d recommend searching elsewhere. We’re not looking to spice up our time in the bedroom anytime soon.”

Meouch didn’t respond at first, just watching the girl on the shore. “Wait, so… what, do you _only_ like girls?”

Remy rolled her eyes. “I would think you’d at least want to buy me dinner before you start asking questions about my personal life.” She leaned back on her hands. “I like girls, yeah. Particularly the one I married, if you’d believe it.”

Meouch nodded. He was getting it now. Remy was looking at the other woman in a certain way that made her eyes sparkle. It was… different than what he was used to. “Yeah, she’s… real pretty,” Meouch said, “What’s her name?”

“Grace,” Remy replied, a warm smile on her face. 

Meouch nodded. “And you guys are… you said you’re married?”

“Yeah. And what better place for a lesbian honeymoon than an island called _Ladyworld?”_ She chuckled, then raised an eyebrow at Meouch. “You don’t… talk to many lesbians, do you?”

Meouch cleared his throat. “Well, uh… not really, no,” he admitted. “But… we both like ladies, right? That’s gotta count for something.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Remy agreed. “That’s a start. But I’ve seen you around, and it’s kinda hard to watch. Maybe I can give you some pointers so I don’t have to watch you walk away with your tail between your legs again.”

* * *

“Okay, no, you _have_ to explain this to me now.”

Sung groaned. All he’d wanted was some rest. He rarely wanted rest. He was usually fine without it. He just needed it this one time.

“I don’t wanna get into it, alright?” Sung said. Carol had been following him since he stepped outside of his workshop, nagging him for details about his personal life. “It’s… a lot of bad memories. Embarrassing memories.” 

“But… _love sensei._ There’s gotta be a story behind that. You _said_ she was your ex-wife.”

“I did, yes. And that’s all you need to know.”

“Come on, Doctor Sung,” Carol gave his arm a little punch before she lowered her voice. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Sung groaned before he stopped walking. “You… won’t mention it again if I tell you?” he asked.

“Promise.”

He sighed and kept walking. “I created her myself,” he began, “I programmed her to be the perfect companion, for me personally, because I was… lonely. But as I started to work on her more, make her technology more advanced, we drifted apart. She was becoming her own person. She had her own wants and needs that I… couldn’t satisfy. So she left me.”

Carol frowned. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Sung said, tears running down his cheeks. “I’m happy for her. I-I… I’m glad she’s doing well.” He choked out a sob, so Carol reached over to pat his back.

“Hey, hey... it’s okay,” she said, “There’s, uh… there’s other fish in the sea. I mean, you’re on an island full of girls, right?”

“All they wanna do is date _each other!”_ Sung cried.

“...Oh?” Carol blinked. She took a glance around them. “Where, uh… where is everyone, anyway?” she asked. “I… haven’t been able to meet any of the other residents yet.”

Slowly, Sung lifted his head to look up at her. Slowly, he pointed towards the housing buildings. “Go to the front desk, they’ll tell you where your place is.”

“Great. See you later, _love sensei.”_


	3. Chapter 3

Havve had just about had his fill of bullshit for the day, and he was on his way back to the Groove Station when he felt a gentle tug on the back of his belt. He spun around, lowered his gaze, and locked eyes with a familiar small human. Those round glasses, the disgustingly innocent expression… had he met them before?

Havve crossed his arms. “WHAT IS IT, TINY HUMAN?”

The human held up a stack of papers. There was a title at the top of the first page: _Mechanical Rage - Draft 1._

Ah, yes. He remembered now. The writer.

Morgan, they’d told him. He met them once before, weeks ago. They didn’t speak (and frankly, Havve quite liked that about them), but they could communicate easily enough by writing things down. They’d shown him a rough draft of a prologue from their novel, and initially, Havve was uninterested. But upon realizing the novel would cover the adventures of a gang of robots out to destroy the human race, he was intrigued.

“AH, YES. THANK YOU.” Havve took the papers from their hands. “I WILL READ IT AT MY LEISURE.”

Morgan smiled and gave him a little wave before they walked off.

Havve was in a rare good mood as he continued his walk towards the Groove Station. It wasn’t often that he could walk home by himself, sit down, and read a beautiful story of death and bloodshed. He knew he was in for a pleasant evening.

* * *

At night, Phobos liked to take out his acoustic guitar. Sometimes, he’d sit out on the beach and use the sounds of crashing waves as a form of accompaniment. Sometimes, he sat on the roof of the Groove Station to give his friends a nice little soundtrack to their sleep. But every now and then, he liked to go for a walk.

He played a bouncy, lighthearted tune as he strolled along the sidewalk, not paying much attention to his surroundings. He had been sure to avoid the residential areas, so as not to wake anyone, but he’d gotten a bit lost along the way. Not that he minded much, really-- he could always find his way back to a familiar place. He knew he was somewhere between the Groove Station and the rest of Ladyworld, at least.

His music transitioned into a slower melody, one that seemed more appropriate for that starry night. People seemed to like the calmer tunes more, even when he played during the day. He’d always attract a bit of an audience then, the residence of Ladyworld fawning over him in a way that always made him a little anxious. He never did particularly like being the center of attention; it was much easier to manage when he was playing with the rest of the band.

He took a deep breath in and sighed, letting his head fall back. He could hear a faint clicking sound from his respirator, and he realized it was probably long overdue for some maintenance. How long had it been since Sung last looked at it? It must’ve been weeks, months even. He’d have to ask about that when he got back, if the doctor was still awake--

Suddenly, he lurched forward, and his brain didn’t have time to catch up before he slammed face-down onto the pavement with an unpleasant crack. When he processed the discordant sounds of his guitar hitting the pavement, his hearts started pounding in his chest.

He’d tripped. And two very delicate, very important items had broken his fall.

He lay still for nearly a full minute, just taking it all in. The body of his guitar was digging into his stomach at an awkward angle. Shards of his helmet were poking into his skin. He wasn’t even sure which parts of it had broken, but he was afraid to open his eyes and find out. He tried to inhale, slowly, just to try things out, and found it considerably difficult to do so.

It was a really bad time to panic, but he was totally going to do it anyway.

He was just about ready to start hyperventilating when he felt something nudging his side.

“LORD PHOBOS.”

He let out a deep sigh of relief, then mentally chastised himself for wasting his limited breath. He made a blind grab towards the air and Havve pulled him to sit upright, guitar and all. Two of the strings had broken, and it was hard to see much in the dark, but Phobos could just make out a few scratches along the body.

_Fuck._

“YOUR RESPIRATOR IS BROKEN.”

Phobos waved a hand dismissively at Havve. He could see the shattered material in front of him, the cracks in his visor, and he could feel his breaths getting shorter and shorter. But none of that really mattered when he was looking at how fucked up that guitar was.

“I BELIEVE THE DOCTOR IS AT HOME. I’M SURE HE CAN ASSIST.”

Before Phobos had time to protest, Havve grabbed the guitar and put the strap over his head to let it hang against his back. He grabbed Phobos next, an arm hooked under his waist as he carried him along like a piece of luggage.

* * *

The Groove Station was a humble home, modeled specifically after a traditional suburban Earth house. Just past the front door was a living room, which led into a small kitchen (in which Sung insisted on having a weekly “family dinner”). A small and rarely-used study also branched off from the living room. Upstairs, they each had their own bedroom-- save for Havve, who didn’t particularly care where he settled down to charge.

Upon seeing the damage done to Phobos’s helmet, Sung looked vaguely like he was going to pass out. But the initial shock faded quickly enough, and he was able to stay calm enough to get Phobos under more stable conditions.

“You know, I want to be upset with you,” Sung said as he adjusted the straps on Phobos’s backup respirator-- a small rubber mask they used for emergencies. “But the mental image of you eating shit on the pavement is just too much for me to be mad about.” Even with Phobos’s mouth covered, Sung could tell he was pouting. “How’s your face? Everything okay?”

Phobos nodded. His jaw ached a little bit, but luckily, the helmet seemed to have taken most of the impact. He was far more concerned about his guitar, which he was eager to tend to after Sung let him go. He took it upstairs with a clear sense of urgency, hoping to find Meouch for some assistance.

Sung, meanwhile, found a comfortable place sitting cross-legged on the carpet. “Could you hand me my tools, Havve?” he asked, already dismantling the broken parts of the helmet. 

It took a solid five seconds for Havve to look up from his reading and process the question. He had been sitting on the couch since he arrived. “WHAT.”

“The toolbox, please. Under the coffee table.”

Havve reached down and slid the toolbox across the floor.

“Thanks. Whatcha reading there?”

Havve had already turned his attention back to his reading material. “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.”

Sung just shrugged before he got to work, pulling the helmet apart to diagnose the problem. It wasn’t the first time he had to disassemble the helmet for repairs, but it had never been quite this bad. He would likely have to replace the visor in its entirety, possibly even the respirator as well. But as he always told himself, if he’d wired a drum machine to Havve’s cardiovascular system, he was capable of doing anything.

Things were going smoothly, but he needed to replace some parts to finish it up. All the spare parts he had were in his workshop, and he wanted to get everything fixed as soon as possible, so he decided a little late-night walk was in order.

“Havve, I’m going to my workshop,” he said as he stood, gathering the pieces of the helmet in his arms. “I’ll be back in... well, by morning, at least. We’ll see how things go.”

Havve nodded dismissively. He’d be just fine on his own.

Just as Sung reached to open the front door, it swung open and knocked him right off his feet-- along with everything he had been holding. “H-hey, what the fu--”

His eyes widened when he looked up. It was Cynthia. He scrambled to get everything back together, frazzled and far too scared to look up again.

“Sorry, I… didn’t know you were right there.” Sung was surprised when she crouched down and started helping him pick everything up. His face felt hot as he mumbled a soft word of appreciation. They hadn’t spoken since the last incident, had they?

“Where were you going?” Cynthia asked as they both stood. She was holding the broken respirator in one hand, and a piece of the visor in the other. “I came to speak to you.”

“To... to me?” Sung asked, his gaze trained on the pieces in his hands. “Oh, um, yeah, I was heading over to the workshop, Phobos’s helmet, I...” He trailed off, then nodded towards the door. “Ah, you can... you can join me, if you’d like.”

Cynthia shrugged. “Sure.”

“Okay, wonderful, wonderful.” Sung cleared his throat. “Ah... Havve, yes, I’ll be back later. Check in on Phobos in a while, please.”

Havve just blinked his eyes in response, too focused to bother with anything else.


	4. Chapter 4

Sung and Cynthia stepped outside in silence, save for the sound of Sung’s heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t like confrontation. Well, he usually didn’t mind it much, but confrontation with _Cynthia_ was a whole different story.

In short, she fucking terrified him.

“So. About what happened earlier.”

Sung almost dropped everything again, but cleared his throat in an attempt to make a smooth recovery. Playin’ it cool. “Yes… what about it?”

“Phobos explained what happened when I woke up.”

“...He did?”

“Oh yes.” Cynthia laughed-- the synthesized, high-pitched giggle that Sung loved so much. “And I knew you would react like this. You’re very predictable, you know.”

Sung huffed. “I’m really sorry about that,” he muttered. “I didn’t realize that programming was still in there, and I… I never expected it to come back, I should have--”

“Hey,” Cynthia interjected, “Sung, it’s okay. I understand. I know you wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

Sung took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Did Phobos… get things back to normal, at least?”

“It seems so. I feel like myself again.”

“Good, good.” Sung nodded, finally somewhat calm. She wasn’t angry, she wasn’t upset. They were just… talking about it. “I, uh, might be able to remove that component completely,” he offered. “You know, the, um… the old programming.”

Cynthia perked up, the lights on her visor blinking. “You could?”

Sung chuckled. “Uh, yeah, I could try,” he said. “All my notes from your original build are still in the workshop. It would just be a matter of finding the right chunk of code.”

“I would like that, yes,” Cynthia said with a nod. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Sung took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. No more panicking. He was fine. She wasn’t mad, she wasn’t disappointed, she wasn’t going to say anything that would upset him-- not that she ever did that, it was more of an irrational fear on his part. She sounded… happy, almost.  
Cynthia was the first to step into the workshop, and Sung looked her up and down as he followed. Evern from an objective standpoint, she was a beautiful creation, and Sung took great pride in his work. He’d created a sentient machine, one that had enough independent thought to make her own major decisions. Really, she was amazing.

“I don’t like being so afraid of you,” he blurted out, only half meaning to do so. Cynthia just turned around to look at him, a small question mark flashing on her visor. “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m sick of tiptoeing around you when I don’t have a good reason to,” Sung continued. “I’m sick of not just… _talking,_ like we used to. I just… I want my friend back, you know?”

Slowly, Cynthia turned back around to set the pieces down on the worktable. “I understand.” Her visor flashed again, but Sung couldn’t see well enough from that angle. “I don’t mean to scare you. I do enjoy your company, despite what you may think.”

Sung blinked, still frozen in the doorway. “Wait, _really?”_

“Of course,” Cynthia replied. “I don’t want to be your wife, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend.”

“R... really?”

“Yes, really.” Cynthia turned around and let out another giggle. “Are you crying, Doctor?”

Sung wiped a tear from his cheek. “No.”

Cynthia hummed, a melodic sound. “Right.” She stepped forward to take the pieces Sung was holding, and set those down as well. “Anyways, I would love to talk again, like we used to. So long as you can stay calm. I can’t talk to someone who’s afraid to talk back.”

“Well… well of course, yeah,” Sung said with a nod, his voice a little shaky. “I’ll try to be less... um.”

“Cowardly?”

“Sure, let’s... go with that.”

* * *

Back at the Groove Station, things were going much smoother. Phobos had successfully replaced the broken guitar strings, and had instead settled on staring at the scratches on the body.

“Listen, bud, it’s nothing to get worked up about,” Meouch assured as he took the guitar from Phobos’s hands. “Scratches… build character, or somethin’.” He put Phobos’s arm through the strap and hung the guitar over his shoulder. “Shows experience. And it still works okay, doesn’t it?”

Phobos hesitated before he grabbed a pick and played out a slow response.

Meouch signed. “Yeah, I know it’s important to you, but you’ve had this one for so long… and you’ve never even played it onstage. What’s so bad about a few scratches?”

Phobos played another response, this one much shorter.

“I _know_ you’re upset. But whining about it isn’t gonna do you any good.” Meouch paused. “Here, one sec.” He stepped out of the room, and returned shortly after with his acoustic bass. It also happened to be covered in scratches and dents.

“See? Mine’s fucked too. We can still make this work, c’mon.” He sat down on Phobos’s bed before he started playing, a simple rhythm that invited the other man to play along. Phobos paused to listen briefly before he jumped right in-- he couldn’t resist.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been months since Sung had worked on Cynthia by himself-- at her request, those types of things were usually left to Phobos. But he still remembered it all, like he’d built her just yesterday.

Her consciousness came before anything else. He’d started out with a simple program on his old, shitty computer. She wasn’t much at first, just a grainy and monotone voice. But in Sung’s eyes, she was already beautiful.

After a lot of tinkering with the program, she expressed a desire for a body; her first display of an individual thought, and a huge milestone in her development. And Sung was quick to accept the task. He was awfully lonely at that point in his life, and that could be dangerous. A computer program was one thing, but a physical, mobile being would be a whole new experience.

They worked together on a design. Cynthia had the final say, of course, but Sung helped her with ideas that her underdeveloped consciousness couldn’t conjure up on its own. It didn’t take long for them to come up with something they both liked. They always worked so well together, and they really did love each other. Cynthia was always meant to be his wife, his lifelong companion. And even with her own free will, she still cared about him. He’d created something truly beautiful.

“You’re not still in love with me, are you?”

The question yanked Sung out of his reminiscence and his hand slipped, resulting in a screwdriver in Cynthia’s chest cavity. He blinked, took a second to process what she’d said before he went to retrieve it. “S-sorry, um… what?” he asked. Maybe he’d misheard.

“I asked if you’re still in love with me,” Cynthia said. “No pressure, but if you are, I feel like that’s going to complicate things. A lot.”

“Oh.” Sung frowned. “Well, I mean… I don’t think I ever really was,” he replied, _“In love_ with you, I mean. I don’t really… I mean, the whole concept of romantic love, I never really...” He shrugged. “I love you, I know I do. But a romantic relationship… well, that wasn’t my intention when I built you.”

“Really?” Cynthia turned to look at him. “Before I chose my name, you referred to me exclusively as your ‘Computer Wife.’”

“Well, yeah, but… that was just a way to refer to you, you know?” Sung said. “I barely even knew what that word meant back then. I just wanted a companion, someone who would stand by me. And the term ‘wife’ seemed to fit. And… you know, I liked having you as a wife.” He let out a sigh. “And… when you left, I didn’t… I didn’t _get_ it. I thought you didn’t care about me anymore. That you hated me.”

“...Well.” Cynthia paused. “I never hated you. I just assumed you’d be a little upset with the fact that your wife wanted to see other people, I didn’t think you wanted to be around me anymore.”

“What? I didn’t care about that.” Sung shook his head. He’d stopped working for the moment, giving all his attention to the discussion at hand. “I didn’t give you free will just to tell you what you can and can’t do, that doesn’t make any sense. If you wanted to interact with others, if you wanted to pursue other relationships, I wasn’t going to _stop_ you from doing so.” By then, his voice had gone up almost a full octave from its usual tone. “That would be terrible! I know I can be controlling, but I’m not an _asshole._ I wanted a companion, not a _slave!_ What kinda guy do you take me f--”

“Sung.”

Sung let out a groan and slumped over to rest his forehead on the cool metal table. “What.”

“Breathe. Your face is red.”

Sung huffed. His whole body felt so… tense. He hated getting all worked up like this, but sometimes, he couldn’t help it.

“Hey. Sung. It’s okay.”

A pair of hands cupped his cheeks and gently lifted his head off the table. He was face-to-face with Cynthia, and her lips were curved into a smile-- something he hadn’t seen directed towards him in a while.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Cynthia explained. “I never hated you. I don’t think I ever could. And I don’t think that’s just because of my programming, either.” Her hands slid back towards his ears, and she started rubbing her thumbs over their pointed tips. His reaction was almost instantaneous-- with a relaxed sigh, his eyes fluttered closed. 

“I love you,” she continued, “I always have, and I always will. I’m sorry we had this miscommunication.”

Sung shook his head just slightly. “Oh, no, it’s, um...” His voice faltered as he leaned into her touch. “It’s… I understand now. It’s okay.”

“Good. Do you... think you could finish me up now? I’m feeling a bit of a draft.”

Slowly, Sung opened his eyes and realized her chest cavity was still wide open. “Oh! Yeah, uh, of course.” He let out an awkward laugh as Cynthia pulled back and laid down on the table. “I just need to hook you up to the computer now, and I should be able to find the code from there. Just let me know if anything, uh… feels weird.” He grabbed some cables from a drawer in his desk, and started to connect them to the ports in her chest.

“Hey, what, um… what brought that question on, anyway?” he asked after a moment. “About, uh. Me being in love with you.”

“Oh. Well, you know… Carol?” Cynthia asked. “The woman who just arrived here?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve been meaning to check in on her, I haven’t heard from her since she got here.” Sung raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“We have a date this afternoon.”

Sung paused to give his brain a second to catch up. Once the initial surprise faded, a smile spread across his face. “Oh? That’s nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last of the chapters i wrote in the first version, so from now on i'm writing from scratch! this means updates probably won't be as frequent, but i'll do my best. feel free to send me any ideas/suggestions/requests for plot points, character additions, or interactions between specific characters in the comments here or on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr for writing stuff now! You can find me @ [somethiingsintheair](https://somethiingsintheair.tumblr.com/).


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